


Lunacy

by rainsonata



Category: Elsword (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, I guess it's a character study of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 19:19:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19215844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainsonata/pseuds/rainsonata
Summary: Lunatic Psyker is a different person when he fights.





	Lunacy

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on April 6, 2015 on tumblr. 
> 
> Lunatic Psyker is interesting to write as his perspective always offers a lot to explore. Feel like I should write him and his line more often.

To think he once spent the majority of his time burying himself in books, digging to find the answers to his problems.  How sad.  He could read all he wanted, but nothing would progress unless he dirtied his hands a little.  Research would be useless without some data, right?      

A smirk formed at the edge of Lunatic Psyker’s lips.  One hand formed a fist with electricity pulsating, making a small crackling sound when he let go before forming a fist again.   

An average human being would break their bones if they attempted the same stunt as him, but he wasn’t human anymore, was he?  His left eye glowed a violent magenta color when he activated his nasod armor.  If there was any exhaustion in his mind before, it has lifted and ceased to exist.  His body felt lighter as the brawler ran into the mob, taking down each demon with ease.  Psyker had a wild look in his eyes when attacking the creatures.  The demons were fast, but he was quicker, dodging their attacks and retaliating with a punch.  

There was a strange feeling of ease when he was in a fight.  All his pain and worry disappeared, leaving his mind to thrive off the adrenaline pumping through his veins.  All of his senses sharpened when he fought.  His vision and hearing were able to detect the smallest details and his sense of smell was impeccable.  Years of fighting trained him to quickly determine his enemies’ weakness points with a simple glare.  

It didn’t matter who the enemy was.  He could worry about that afterward when he picked up the remnants of their corpses.  All that mattered was that his fist bring an end to the creatures that decided to inhabit this region.  If there was a mission or a purpose behind taking them down, it was all left forgotten.  Research?  That was gone too.  His dynamo would record his fighting and take note of anything of importance.  All that was left for Psyker’s brain to do was mindlessly take everything down.  

When one row of demons were crushed, another group appeared.  It was only when no more shadows popped up did Lunatic Psyker realize that there was no more to fight.  His limbs felt numb when he stopped, standing over the collapsed bodies of the demons.            

Mastermind gazed at the brawler.  There was a twisted expression on his face.  To think this man was supposed to be the same as him, the same person in face and name. Having to acknowledge this man, who completely lost his senses in the heat of battle.  What a barbaric way to go.  

Lunatic Psyker felt his shoulders shaking, still recovering from the exhilarating fight.  His hands were trembling when he held them up.  Bits of electricity still sparked from the tip of his fingers, too eager to take down more targets.  His eyes scanned the area, looking past the corpses piled up around him.  This wasn’t enough.  There had to be more.  They couldn’t just stop appearing now.  He wanted to keep moving.  He needed to feel their warm blood running through his hands.  To feel their heart stop when when he crushed their vital regions.  He wanted-, no, _needed_ more.     

Psyker picked up quiet footsteps from behind.  The brawler made a quick turn and mindlessly threw his fist over.  Another one?  His typically clear vision distorted, only the outline of a tall figure dressed in white.  The moving figure moved slightly away, just enough for Psyker to miss.   

Six arsenal revolved around the figure, shooting out bolts of energy aimed at the brawler.  

Psyker jumped away without second thought.  His eyes saw only red; he snarled at the figure and reconfigured his dynamo behind him, forming an electric barrier between them.  He threw a kick at the person, but it was easily avoided.  The figure ordered the six weapons to pin the brawler to the ground as a thin grin formed on their lips.  

Psyker’s senses came back into place.  The first thing he noticed was that it was cold.  It was cool and misty, but his skin was burning with sweat and a healthy coating of blood.  His nostrils flared, suddenly realizing that the place smelled like burnt flesh, a smell he could never get used to despite years of the same experience.  He squinted, allowing his eyes to readjust before focusing at the man in front of him.           

“Mastermind?” Psyker then remembered who he was looking at.  His throat felt dry when he uttered his name.   

Even in the midst of a dungeon, his counterpart look composed and in full control.  Then again…Mastermind wasn’t the one to come into full contact with demons like Psyker did, so how could the scientist understand the pleasure of fighting up so close?  

Mastermind wasn’t looking at Psyker when his name was called.  His eyes were glazed.  What was that look in his eyes?  Disgust?  For acting like a monster in battle?  Sadness?  Disappointment?  Pity?  When Psyker checked again, Mastermind still scrutinized him with that empty stare.

Without warning, Mastermind threw something at Psyker’s direction.  The brawler easily caught the item in one hand.  Psyker closed his eyes for a brief second and gritted his teeth when he felt his hand send a sharp stinging sensation through one arm.  He opened his eyes to see a small glass bottle in his hand. It was filled with red liquid that shared the same color as the blood dripping through his hands.  

“This is…?” Psyker looked at the HP potion in question, but stopped mid sentence when he saw Mastermind turn and walk away with his dynamo tailing behind.  “Where are you going?”

“Home.” He didn’t look at Psyker in the eye.  “I’ve gathered enough data for today.”

“Hey!” Psyker tried to get his attention again.  “At least look at my face when we’re talking.” His voice cracked at the last few words, turning into a laugh that was off by one higher octave.  “Or are you just scared of me?  Is that it?”

Mastermind stopped walking to glare at Psyker.  His eyes flared the same color as his.  With a cold chuckle, the scientist said, “Don’t be ridiculous, Psyker.”  A grim smile found its way his face.  “Scared of you?  You’re nothing more than a nuisance.”     

“What are you trying to say?” Was that a challenge?  Psyker stopped laughing and bit his tongue in anger.  He was feeling that rage again.  

“Keep fighting like this and you won’t last very long.” Was all Mastermind said to him.  He stared at Psyker for a few seconds before starting to walk off again.  “Good day.”

At those words, Mastermind took his leave and disappeared into the mist, his white tailcoat fluttering behind him.

Psyker stared at where Mastermind once was, feeling numb again like he was earlier when fighting.  He was still clutching the healing remedy in his hand, not caring that an edge of the bottle was cutting deeper into one of the many wounds he already sported.

Once the adrenaline rush faded away, the brawler saw his reflection in a small puddle at his feet.  His shirt sleeves were torn, revealing cuts and bruises on his arms.  Blood of his own and of the enemies’ formed into a dark black crust on parts of his white hair.  If touched, red smeared on his hair and forehead, leaving even Psyker disgusted at the mess.  Despite his age, Psyker saw lines formed on his face that suggested aging.  His eyes wide eyed, still dazed from the fight.

Only when he stood up did the brawler notice that he was sore at the mid back area and his arms.  That was the extent of the damage, but Psyker knew the pain would settle in once he got home and would remain for another few days.

He gingerly wet a washcloth he carried, wiping excess blood from his wounds.  Psyker then proceed using his teeth to open the potion, spitting out the cork into his free hand.  He tilted his head back and closed his eyes while consuming the potion, savoring the cool taste.  It didn’t have the greatest taste, but it was a blessing after being deprived from water for hours.  

At the moment the drink went past his tongue, his wounds closed, causing the blood to form a thin crust around his injuries.  He was tired and his body felt heavy when Psyker stood up.  The potion may heal his wounds, but it didn’t cure exhaustion.  Pskyer soon lost patience and gulped down the rest of the potion, almost choking because he drank too quickly.  

Most of the injuries now looked like they had a couple of days to heal.  Crude scars formed on some of his cuts and would bleed again if the brawler tried to scrape them off.  The potion encouraged his body to heal quicker, but at the price of draining his energy to do anything else.  The free feeling he experienced during the fight was gone, allowing exhaustion to resettle in his mind.  The wounds have healed, but the pain and aches were still there.       

_Keep fighting like this and you won’t last very long._  He snorted at Mastermind’s words.  What did that smartass know?  He thought in anger as he violently chucked the empty potion bottle away.


End file.
